For a short while the feeling of homesickness was overpowering. No memories could awaken this longing as strongly as smells and fragrances, reminding her of something that she had lost and would always miss.
There under the tree she decided to stay in Africa until the lawyer Pandre had been to visit Isabel and given her advice. If the bottom line was that there was no way in which she could help the imprisoned woman, there was no reason for her to stay here any longer. She wouldn’t give up, but neither would she surrender to illusions.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice she thought she recognized. Emerging from one of the rooms, together with Belinda Bonita, was a man who, she could see that from the way he walked, seemed to be not completely sober. His back was turned towards her. At first she couldn’t understand what he was saying. Then she realized it was a language she understood when the person talking it wasn’t slurring his speech.
She knew now who it was with his back turned towards her. Halvorsen. The man who had been Lundmark’s best friend. The one who had promised her his support if she needed it after Lundmark’s death and burial.
60
For the second time, somebody from the original crew of the Lovisa had come to her brothel. But she had to ask herself if she might be mistaken after all. Halvorsen had been a serious man, deeply religious, and not a heavy drinker like most others of the crew. Svartman, Lundmark and Halvorsen had been among the sober ones, she thought. But he was having difficulty in keeping his balance, and his Norwegian was slurred. She had the feeling that he was irritated because Belinda Bonita hadn’t understood what he said. On board the ship Halvorsen had always spoken in a low voice, not much more than a whisper. Now he was shouting, as if giving orders.
When he finally turned round and flopped down on to one of the sofas — with a bundle of banknotes in his hands, which Belinda quickly took from him — Ana saw that she had not been mistaken. It was Halvorsen all right, his hair plastered down, wearing his best clothes: she had last seen him dressed like that when he stood on deck at Lundmark’s burial, watching the corpse, weighed down with an iron sinker, disappear down into the depths.
She could still remember the magic number of metres: 1,935.
When Belinda had left Halvorsen, who was now sitting mumbling to himself, Ana stood up. O’Neill was standing behind him, wondering whether to help him out, but Ana waved him aside and sat down carefully beside Halvorsen. He turned his head slowly to look at her with bloodshot eyes. He had hardly changed since she saw him last, a few hours before she had slipped across the gangplank and jumped ship. Perhaps his hair had become slightly thinner, his cheeks hollower. But his enormous hands were exactly the same.
She smiled at him, but could see immediately that he didn’t know who she was. There was nothing in his eyes to suggest that he recognized her. As far as he was concerned she was an unknown woman, a white woman in a black brothel where he had just availed himself of the services of the beautiful but cool Belinda Bonita, who had stuffed his banknotes inside her blouse and gone back to her room to get washed and perhaps also change the sheets.
Halvorsen screwed up his eyes and tried to look at her with just one eye. He still seemed not to know who she was.
‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘Hanna Lundmark. Do you remember me?’
Halvorsen gave a start. He shook his head, couldn’t believe his ears.
‘I’m not a ghost,’ she said, trying to speak as clearly as possible. ‘It really is me.’
Now he knew. He stared at her incredulously.
‘You disappeared,’ he said. ‘We never found you.’
‘I went ashore. There was no way I could continue the voyage. It was as if Lundmark was still on board.’
‘1,935 metres,’ said Halvorsen. ‘I still remember that.’
He sat up, straightened his back, tried to force himself to become sober.
‘I didn’t believe I would ever see our cook alive again,’ he said. ‘Least of all here. What happened?’
‘I went ashore. I got married again, and became a widow once more.’
Halvorsen pondered upon her words, then asked her to repeat them, but more slowly this time. She did as he asked.
‘We thought you were dead,’ he said. ‘Nobody could believe that you would leave the ship voluntarily in an African port.’
‘I’d like to hear about the voyage,’ she said. ‘Did you see any icebergs?’
‘We saw one iceberg, as tall as a church. It was just after we left this port. The nights were always a worrying time — nobody ever discovers an iceberg until it’s too late. But we got to Australia and came back again.’
‘I kept going down to the harbour, but I never saw you berthed there.’
‘We bunkered further north, in Dar es Salaam. Or was it further south, in Durban? I can’t remember.’
Ana realized that Halvorsen must have remained on board all the way back to Sundsvall. That meant that he must have met Svartman, who always gathered together and greeted his crew when they returned to their home port.
‘I assume you stayed with the ship all the way back home?’
‘I stayed on board all the way to Sundsvall. But then I travelled to Norway and signed on to a different ship.’
‘I’m not worried about that. I’d just like to know what Forsman said.’
Halvorsen frowned.
‘Forsman? Who’s he?’
‘The ship’s owner!’
The penny dropped.
‘He came rolling up to the quay in a sort of wheelchair.’
‘Had he injured himself?’
‘He’d had an accident and had to have a leg amputated. But he was determined to go up on deck. He hopped around like a lame bird.’
‘Was he alone?’
‘I think he was accompanied by a Finn, but I can’t remember his name.’
Ana continued questioning him, but he didn’t know anything about Berta or any children. Although it was obviously pointless, Ana couldn’t help asking him about her mother. Had anybody mentioned Elin? The woman who had a daughter who never came back to Sweden?
Halvorsen knew nothing about anybody called Elin.
‘I never spoke to Forsman,’ he said. ‘It was Svartman who did that. I know nothing about what they said about you and Lundmark, his death and your disappearance. I travelled to Spitzbergen and spent the winter there in the belief that I’d be able to hunt down so many furs, I’d be able to afford to buy a little farm somewhere in Trøndelag. All that happened was that I nearly froze to death, was driven mad by the darkness, and completely lost all faith in the God I used to turn to in times of trouble. He doesn’t exist for me any longer. But I think I’ve collected in advance enough forgiveness for all the sins I haven’t yet committed.’
Halvorsen couldn’t help laughing somewhat plaintively. Then he suddenly leaned towards her, so close that the stench of strong drink hit her full in the face.
‘As you are here, I take it you are also for sale. That negress certainly knew what she was doing. But it can never be the same as it is with a white woman. Do you cost as much as she does? Or maybe you charge even more?’
Halvorsen placed a hand on her breast and gave it a squeeze. She was reminded of Carlos’s hairy fingers, and pushed him away. Halvorsen thought it was the start of a game, and felt her again. This time she slapped him hard and shouted for O’Neill.
‘Throw this man out,’ she said. ‘And make sure he’s never allowed back in. Never ever.’
Halvorsen didn’t even have time to protest before O’Neill had pulled him up off the sofa and dragged him out into the street.